


The Bet

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), Bets & Wagers, Competition, F/M, Facial Shaving, Flirting, Humor, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 01:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble fic inspired by a tumblr prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hazel75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel75/gifts).



"What's that?"

"What's what?" he replied, staring back at her as he shuffled through the files on his desk.

"On your _face_ ," she continued, slowly.

He ran a hand over his chin, remembered, then lost his focus on the file. Oh yeah. _Where was that SSR file on Leviathan again?_   He looked up at May.

"I can't tell you about that."

"Funny," May said, crossing her arms, appearing completely unamused.

" _Sorry_ ," he said, shrugging, pushing a few files into a stack before turning to look on the shelf behind his desk.

"You know this is out of character for you, right?" she said. "And with all the wild goings on of late..."

"I can't risk ramifications," he said, shrugging, his back to her. "Additional conditions...and so forth."

May rolled her eyes. "This involves _Skye_ , doesn't it?"

He made a mental check before continuing. "Yes. Here it is," he said with a smile, turning back towards his desk before putting it front and center and flipping the file open.

"How long is this going to carry on?" she asked.

"A week," he said, sitting down in the chair and looking down at the file. "Anything else?"

"Guess not," May deadpanned before turning to leave.

  
***

When she had decided to leave, to "step away" as she put it, it had taken everything in him to stuff down his instinct to ask her to stay and instead let her do what she thought best.

It was a very long three months, and he started to realize the amount of time that he spent in each day just contemplating some thing or the other related to or about Skye.

The realization kind of embarrassed him. He thought, at fifty one, he might be over this sort of thing.

May had even asked him how we was doing with things.

He started to become nervous that everyone knew this, that they had seen this all along, before he had.

"Hunter," Coulson said, picking up the mug to pour himself a cup of coffee.

" _Sir_ ," Hunter replied politely, then nodded at the drip machine as Coulson realized he was staring. "Is...everything alright?"

"Of course everything's alright," Coulson said lightly, as Hunter took matters into his own hands and began pouring coffee into his cup. "Why wouldn't everything be..."

"Great! _So_ ," Hunter interrupted, pouring his own cup. "Heard from Skye?"

Coulson was a little surprised by the switch in tracks.

Bobbi approached and reached between them to grab a mug and then helped herself.

"Skye," Coulson repeated, after a moment.

"Yes," Hunter nodded, widening his eyes at Coulson. "Little darling that runs around here with a bag of insults on hand for when you step even the _teensiest_ _bit_ over the line?"

"' _Little darling_ ' _?_ " Bobbi repeated, narrowing her eyes. 

"Sir, it's just an...," he looked to Bobbi. "Bobs, no need to get all..."

Coulson was giving him nothing, and Bobbi had shifted all her weight to one hip.

"Just because she's not here with some remark to toss off doesn't mean you two need to pick up the slack."

" _Defensive_ ," Coulson said, shaking his head.

"Not like she's my little darling anyway, now is she?"

Coulson just stared blankly back at him, as Bobbi raised her eyebrows and swallowed her lower lip.

"We're done, right?" Coulson said.

" _Done_ ," Hunter said, marching off with his cup in hand.

  
***

Two weeks ago, Skye had returned from training, a bit of a changed woman.

Which was how he had ended up in this mess to begin with.

Getting reacquainted with her had proven slightly awkward. At least for him.

She picked it back up like nothing had changed, but he noticed all of these little things that were different about her.  Her hesitation was gone.  Eye contact was very direct.  She resolved things more quickly and moved forward.

Leaving under the strain of controlling whatever the crystals inside the Obelisk had done to her, returning calm and confident.

He was happy for that, he just missed out on seeing her get there.

So when he'd walked into the common area after everyone had left, and saw Skye at the vintage videogame machine with a beer balanced precariously on it, he decided to walk over to her and engage.

"Going for the high score?" he asked, standing nearby.

"Yup," she said. "I aim to beat it."

"The others," he said, looking around. "Did they wonder off?"

"Guess so," she said, rapidly slamming down on the button pad. "Grab a beer. Let's see if you can top my score."

He walked to the fridge and opened it up and pulled out one of the bottles, walked back to where she was and tossed the cap away in the nearby trash.

She slammed her hand down on the pad then grabbed her bottle and took a drink.

" _Easy_ ," he said, looking at her intense gaze.

Skye started laughing and stepped aside, offering him her spot in front of the game. "You're up. _Director_."

"Think I can beat your score?" he asked, flipping the joystick to check out the top scores listed. "Let me guess: 0-8-4."

"That's me," she said, sipping her beer, leaning against the game with her shoulder.

He hit the start button and went to town.

"Look at you go," she said, giving a surprised chuckle. "This was your thing back in the day?"

"This machine came from a pizza place I used to frequent near the Academy, Skye," he said, biting his lower lip in concentration.

"Oooh," she said, "So this game is here to boost your ego?" Coulson smiled but didn't reply. "The top score is: BU-YA," she added. "That's so 90s."

"What was wrong with the 90s?" Coulson said with a slight shrug before tapping the button repeatedly.

"Hey," she said. "What do you say to a wager? Are you a wagering man, Phil Coulson?"

"Hmm," he said, acting like he was thinking about it, wondering about her using his name for the first time in....well, since their first week together, while the logic part of him said ABSOLUTELY NOT.

" _Okay_."

"If you lose," she said, contemplating it. "You can't shave for an entire week."

"Alright," he said, smirking, darting a look over at her tipping her bottle to sip, looking cocky as hell. " _Big deal_."

"And you can't tell anyone why," she added, laughing to herself.

"Done. And if I beat your score," he said, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he slammed the joystick sideways briefly. "You have to shave me every day for a week."

She jerked her head back, a little surprised, as he bit his lower lip wondering if he'd gone too far. Maybe she'd just think he was trying to blow the whole thing out of the water by making her uncomfortable.

"Deal," she said, knotting her brows together.

He just shook his head. She was totally going down.

"Although, now I'm kind of hoping you win," she said.

***

"Sir, that is an _interesting_ new look for you," Simmons said, when he wandered into the lab.

"And by interesting," he paused, handing the file to her. "You mean what, Simmons?"

"Paul Bunyan," Fitz chimed in, walking up with Mack. "That, you look like a lumberjack, sir."

"No, that is not what I meant," Simmons said, hiding her face.

"That's right," Mack said, grinning. "I think she called him Director Kimble."

"Yes," Fitz said, pointing to Mack. "Like the...the, uh..."

" _Fugitive_ ," Coulson blurted out. "Yes, it's a Fugitive joke, I get it."

"You just trying out something new?" Mack said, leaning his forearms against the table, staring back at him.

"That's right," Coulson said. "Simmons, that file, I need you to look into the connection between the super soldier serum and what Leviathan was developing here."

"Yes sir," she said, "I'll get right on it. Heckle and Jeckle, how may I help you?"

"We've got a few things," Fitz said, tugging at the box in his hand. "To run by you."

"Party in the lab," Skye said, walking in. "And I wasn't invited?"

"We were just talking about the Director's new look," Fitz said, pointing at Coulson's face.

"Yeah," Skye said, clicking her tongue. "Is that thing getting itchy yet?"

"Not really," Coulson said, now with the sudden urge to scratch his face. "People," he said, raising his eyebrows and excusing himself.

"Skye comes back, Coulson grows a beard," Fitz said, when the Director was out of earshot. "Coincidence?"

Mack raised his hands when Skye turned her scowl on him.

"What did you do to him?" Simmons said with a smile, leaning forward conspiratorily.

***

"I'm impressed," she said. "Didn't think you'd hold out for this long. Be still."

It had been a full week, and now Coulson's impressively grizzled beard situation was at an end.

"Man of my word, Skye," he said, from his perch on the edge of the sink, chin raised, as she brought the razor against his neck.

She ran it carefully along his throat as he tried not to fidget.

Somehow, well, _a fairly calculated somehow_ , had lead him to announced to her earlier as they passed in the hall that the week was up and he'd fulfilled his debt.

And she'd volunteered to do the honors.

Taking the razor away, she dipped it into the water standing in the sink and tapped it against the edge.

"All your hair seems to want to gravitate towards your chin," she teased.

" _Ouch_ ," he said.

"Did I get you?" she asked, stopping her hand.

"Just in my vanity," he said, wincing slightly.

"Mr. Director," she said, tipping his chin down, she brought the razor against the spot above his top lip, scraping away the stubble with a few strokes. "I'd like to offer an apology."

"Oh, really?" he asked, his eyes on hers, he raised an eyebrow, following her movements as she looked away and washed the razor again before setting it down on top of the sink.

"Really," she said, wiping the shaving cream from the corner of his mouth with her thumb, before leaning in and pressing her lips against his.

Just when his paralysis wore off, and he began to kiss her back, she pulled away as he chased her mouth.

They froze for a moment, all of it hovering between them.

"You don't seem very sorry at all," he said, looking at her eyes, then back at her mouth, yanking her towards him, hand on the back of her neck, as she slid her hands along the front of his undershirt. Ignoring the shaving cream catching on her chin, she slid her tongue against his lip, opening his mouth.

"Skye," and she could feel his teeth against her lips as he said her name, and smiled.  His hands drawing her between his legs, holding her hips, mouth on her chin, then his tongue pressing against the soft underside of her top lip, as her mouth surrounded his.

"We haven't even finished shaving you," she said, against the fuzzy side of his face, tickling the hairs with her voice.

"It can wait," he answered, ducking his head and sliding his rough face along her neck, then kissing afterwards, as she groaned.

"Phil," she breathed, as he kissed below her ear, closing her eyes, running her fingernails across the back of his scalp.

"Yes?" he said, pausing for a second to shiver. She pushed her knee up onto the sink and he helped her by sliding back until she was straddling his lap, looking down at him.

"We need to figure out a way to make you lose another bet," she said, smirking at him.

"You mean, another way to make you think you've won?" he asked the corners of his eyes crinkling.

She tossed her head and sucked in a breath. "You jerk," she said, shoving at his chest. "You're on."

"I've got an idea or two," he said, tugging her hips down towards his as she kissed him again.

"I bet you do."

 


End file.
